


Seeking Salvation

by TwistedAmusement13



Category: South Park
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Loneliness, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedAmusement13/pseuds/TwistedAmusement13
Summary: ~Sometimes it was easier to drown in the silent loneliness then to try and swim against the tide~Kenny McCormick is dealing with some shit and Craig Tucker is there to save him*also I'm shit at summaries*UPDATE 11/15/17 - Story on hiatus until further notice. I will finish it eventually but it's going to be a while.





	1. The Blond

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been on this site for a little bit now reading all the great works here, I haven't written anything really since HS but all the wonderful things I've read has sparked my own inspirations, I'm new to this so please be gentle.

**_Sometimes it was easier to drown in the silent loneliness than to try and swim against the tide._ **

{The Blond}

The dark thoughts that swirled in the blond’s mind seemed ever more present. It was hard to escape them no matter how hard he tried. More and more he faded into the background of life. The friends that he had grown up with since birth were all drifting away and he was stuck. Some might have assumed that the blond enjoyed the solitude, but that was just a convenient lie to excuse their absence. He watched, he studied, he was observant of all those around him and just once wanted someone to actually see him, but they never seemed to. He used to be quick with an absurdly dirty joke, making them all laugh at the foolishness but as soon as the moment would pass he was forgotten again, why try anymore. Even something as seemingly significant as death would never be remembered, not by those he wanted to remember anyways, but he could never seem to forget each and every death, no matter how a friend or passerby would mourn or cry as he was dying it was always washed away with the morning light, just yet another way for the blond to be forgotten. He moved about his world without purpose and without feeling. But that was again a lie, for he did feel, he felt their sorrows and joys, the pain and pleasure and tried time and time again to loose himself in their feelings to try and make them his own, make them real, but his release, his acknowledgment never seemed to come. He wondered at times if he even existed anymore, or had his curse turned ever crueler, was he now just a ghost destined to follow along and never participate in life again? He had sought out ways to cope with his loneliness but nothing ever seemed to work, no amount of drugs or sex or alcohol would ever really drive away the wicked torrent of his unshared emotions. As a child he hid himself in his parka, drawing the hood closed to shrink away from the things that scared him or the feelings he couldn’t seem to understand. Maybe he did this all to himself? Maybe he was the reason he was so lonely. Had he withdrawn himself so thoroughly that those who once promised to be his friends forever had finally abandoned him? As he got older he learned to hide his thoughts behind an impenetrable wall in his mind, his electric blue eyes taking in the world around him but never betraying his feelings, and the emotionless expression he wore as a daily armor. Would anyone ever see him? Notice him? Bitter thoughts reminded him that he couldn’t even end his torturous existence because no matter if he tried to end it all he would just be back with the first rays of the morning, a savage cold promise that every day starts anew and he couldn’t escape it no matter how he tried.

 

Why did he bother with the day to day? Well it’s not like he had shit else to do to occupy his time.

 

Every day for what seemed like eternity he trudged through his morning routine. He removed himself from the mattress on the floor, took a brisk cold shower, brushed his teeth, tousled his slowly drying hair and finger combed it into something semi manageable, dug out some tattered worn jeans an old graphic tee and his oversized fading orange hoodie, got dressed got his boots on and headed out into the cold morning air. No one in his household acknowledged him, but he was never surprised. Sometimes it was better that way, the less he was noticed at home the more he was likely to escape the place without physical injury. 

He walked down the road from his run down house, his feet moving on autopilot until he reached his destination. South Park High School. He wondered why he subjected himself to this daily destination but again it wasn’t like he had shit else to do. At least it was warm in his classrooms and he could get a free meal at lunch, his house never seemed to shed the chill that was lingering in the air, no matter how warm it could be in the spring or summer and forget trying to find food there, that was just a joke anymore, one long lost of its humor.

His true-blue eyes scanned the hallways as he entered the building taking in the sights of his peers around him, a group of girls giggling by classroom doors as they checked out the football players in their jerseys, the Goths avoiding the conformists and cursing the world talking about pain and death as wistful hopeful things. The blond knew better about death and the ever present pain he felt at each one, the Goths we clueless to the real pain a death could bring, maybe he could show them sometime, see the light fading from their eyes as they breathed their last. No – best not to think down those paths, he wasn’t a psychopathic killer after all. He was still moving automatically, mind wandering and getting lost in dark unspoken thoughts until he stopped at his locker, he removed his ragged backpack from within its walls, he turned at a disturbance down the hall and watched the group of three that he once clung to coming in his direction. He said nothing to them, just watched as they chatted and bickered at each other and walked past him without as much as a glance in his direction. Hmm… at least when he was done with his flings there was a certain finality to it, each party knowing the end had come, but the dissolution of a friendship, when did that really happen?

He shook the uneven bangs from his eyes and walked on to his first period, Art. He easily found his seat in the back of the class, no one taking notice of him per usual and brought out his worn sketchbook and graphite drawing pencils. The blond glanced around the room at the slow stream of teens still filing to their seats before the final bell, he caught a glimpse of cold gunmetal blue eyes before returning his own to daze off in the direction of the front of the class. His fingers twitched and began absentmindedly drawing out his frustrations on the shrinking empty places in the book. The instructor drawled on explaining the assignment for the week, the blond paying no mind as his hand moved along the paper, fingers picking up the graphite residue from the page as he worked, the drawing slowing taking shape under his careful hand, a natural he had been told once upon a time, but it mattered not now for what was he to gain for this apparent “gift”. The lower lid meeting upper and the slight down-dip of the tear duct, thin wisps of eyelashes delicate in their framing, shading ever so slightly for the iris, trying to capture the way the blue and grey swirled just so with varying shade and depth of the lead, the dangerous glint that was held just below the surface, strokes deepening into the pupil darkening it to a near perfect circle; time always seemed so slow in these moments, it might be one of the only times the blond’s troubled mind stilled.

“….portraits. You will each be paired with a partner and need to complete a full portrait of one another, ensuring to capture as many of the small details you can about the other person in your artwork. Projects will need to be completed by the end of class Friday.”

The blond just barely heard the assignment, the instructor now rambling off the pairings, some groans from the class on the announcement of who they would be forced to work with over the course of the week.

“Turner and Cartman”

“McCormick and Tucker”

“And Marsh and Stevens”

“Partner up and began working on your projects, you have the rest of the class period, supplies are on the side counter as usual if you need them.”

 

The blond was unmoved, his partner’s name registered of course, as did all the other names of the students in the class, he knew them all, grew up with the vast majority of them, but they had long since forgotten him it seemed. Craig Tucker. The blond continued fine tuning the sketch, desks shifted as people got into their assigned pairings but he remained in his seat, there was frustrated sigh in his vicinity that barely registered before a desk was scraped across the linoleum and positioned across from him. A body slid into the seat almost delicately as if hesitant to intrude on the blond.

“McCormick” came the gruff and slightly nasally voice.

The blond moved his bright blue eyes up from his desk, meeting the shining gunmetal blue of the boy across from him in the whisper of an acknowledgment. He mused over the fact that he had actually been spoken to, he almost couldn’t remember how long that had been. The moment passed quickly and he returned to finishing the sketch, teasing out the last details from his subconscious onto the paper before him.

The time ticking by was manifesting itself loudly in the blond, _tick tick tick_ , the tone increasing in his brain as he felt the others eyes on him, studying him. Why?

“The fuck you want Tucker?” it was like venom spat from the blonds lips, he could almost feel the noirette flinch at his words. No one else would have caught that but the blond, no the boy across from him was much too controlled for that. ‘ _Almost as controlled as me_ ,’ he thought.

A small growl spilled up from his throat as he spoke low and threateningly, “To get this fucking shit done and over with, so how’s about you focus since it’s not just your ass on the line.”

Hmm, he didn’t know that Craig had so many words in his vocabulary.

The pencil stilled, though not because of what has said but because the small piece he was working on was done. Craig was still glaring at him but there was a momentary lapse when he looked down at the book before the blond closed it, a flash of recognition and a question as he saw the eye the blond had drew, his eyes hardening again when striking blue eyes were brought up fully to meet his.

Kenny studied him, expression unyielding under the noirette’s stone cold gaze; as if he thought he could cut the blond in half with his stare. ‘ _Gonna haveta try harder than that_.’ The blond returned a look of nothingness through the bangs that dipped back into his vision which only served to further piss off the other boy.

“Didn’t realize you gave a fuck about classes Tucker,” condescension dripping from his words even though he knew they were a lie, knew that Craig was actually trying to pass his senior year so like the rest of his peers he could hope to escape the miserable fate that is living in South Park. 

“Fuck you McCormick.” He deadpanned while raising his middle finger to the blond out of years of habit.

The forced interaction was beginning to wear on the blond, having been so far removed from these situations it was starting to fray his nerves. God he wanted a cigarette. One the vices that seemed to stick with him, while never as good as the high of drugs, sex or booze it was in its own way comforting, as if the kiss of smoke and nicotine could somehow erase his mind and calm the neurons dancing erratically under his skin, if even for a moment. Maybe it was just more habitual than therapeutic. Regardless of the hairline cracks forming in the dam that held back his emotions his outside façade remained neutral.

“It’s a fucking portrait Tucker, not like ya gotta do much more than look at me and draw what you see, don’t see why yer bitchin’ so much. Get your supplies and start, I ain’t stoppin’ ya,” he drawled lowly, dismissively waving over to the counter with the dwindling art supplies.

Craig was grinding down his jaw so much that the blond thought he was going to break it. With a sudden jerky movement Craig removed himself from the attached seat to the desk, effectively shoving the desks together with a loud crash drawing startled curious glances from the other students at the sudden noise and silently strode over to the supplies to gather what he needed.

The blond was wholly unaffected, returning to his sketchbook and opening to a fully blank page. He watched the noirette from the corner of his eyes, taking in the tightness of his shoulders, radiating in anger and the underlying promise of violence and the stiffness to his gait as he moved around the counter and back to the desk. Kenny moved his eyes back down to the blank page mere seconds before Craig would have caught him looking.

Tucker sat back down in the seat across from the blond, taking time to realign his expression into that of a neutral image, but Kenny could still see the rage leaking out at the seams no matter how the noirette tried to hide it. He watched through his blond fringe the boy trying to calm himself as he arranged his drawing supplies just so. Finally it seemed he had settled himself and looked back up at the blond, studying him briefly before beginning work on his portrait.

They stole glances at each other while they worked to translate the images on to paper. The blond having an easier more relaxed time as the other slightly struggled, the noirette’s cruder lines and shades flowing down from his writing utensil it was a distinct contrast to the blond’s effortless strokes of graphite. They took unspoken turns eyeing each other, rendering what their eyes saw onto the pages beneath their hands. Time seemed to move slowly during this delicate dance of theirs until the blond took notice of the time at the front of the classroom. ‘ _Three minutes left_ ’, he thought as he started to close his book and pack up his supplies into his book bag. Finally the bell rang for the change of class and Kenny left the room silently and alone.

Again he walked down the hallways without a thought, his feet automatically directing him to the next location at the back of the school and out into the cold air. He took a sharp breath at the change in temperature and pulled his hood up over his head and dug around in his hoodie pockets until he came back with the half pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter. His second period was supposed to be Government and Econ but the smoke break was much more needed today. He took out a cigarette and balanced it between his lips, cupping the end to avoid the wind and flicking the lighter to life, he took a long first drag and held it deeply in his lungs, eyes slipping shut as a small feeling of relaxation washed over him. The lighter and pack vanished back into his pockets as he slowly exhaled. He kept walking farther away from the school and towards the trees that lined the edge of the school property, enjoying the silence of the moment. The blond took long slow drags of the cigarette, feeling the waves of nicotine washing through him, cleansing him of the noirette’s anger and stares and returning his mind to nothingness.  He stayed out there smoking one after another until he heard the class bells in the distance signaling third period. ‘ _Algebra_ ’ he sighed to himself and headed back towards the building and his awaiting class.

For as much as people used to tease him about being dumb, the blond really wasn’t, he was just great at indifference. He was easily passing his math class with a C average and no effort, he knew full well the answers to the majority of the equations in the class but there just didn’t seem to be a point, so laziness won out in the end over any lofty mathematical ambitions.

Next was lunch, something decent for the too thin blond to eat, better than the cheap pop tarts or frozen waffles that would sometimes make it into his house when his mother decided that groceries were more important than drugs, alcohol or fighting with her husband. Lately that wasn’t often. He grabbed his food from the queue and sat down at his normal seat with his “friends” Kyle, Stan and Cartman. Kyle and Stan were already chatting away, Kyle about classes and college applications, Stan about Wendy and football, and Cartman making jokes and racist remarks to each of them in turn. Kenny slipped in unnoticed and unacknowledged as he has been for months… or was it years now. He couldn’t seem to remember anymore. He ate his food in silence, listening and watching the others around him interacting. Just as he was about to get up and throw his tray away he felt someone watching him from the side, he turned slowly to watch the noirette from Art class staring at him intently. It seemed too intimate for the blond, not like he was being undressed and eye fucked by the other but that the noirette was trying to see into his soul. ‘ _Do I even have a soul anymore?_ ’ The bitter thought sang coldly through his brain. He ignored the boy, got up, threw his tray away and escaped the cafeteria and the lingering eyes on every part of him.

The rest of the day was uneventful, Biology lead to Phys Ed and finally to English. No more lingering eyes or group projects. The blond left the school and headed down to the small secluded gas station at the far edge of town to start his shift. No customers and four hours later he was able to clock out. He bought a new pack of Reds and headed back home for the night.

He could hear the screaming before he was half a block away from the house. This was becoming the norm again to have his parents bitching about who knows what until they got drunk enough to pass out. The fight never really ceased, just the alcohol won out in those situations. Kenny used to be able to seek refuge at a friend’s house for the night, but those shelters have long since been inaccessible to him. He got to the door finally and opened it just in time to see his mother throwing a glass at his father’s head. She missed of course but it reignited his father’s anger and he charged towards her intent on beating a lesson into her. Unfortunately Stuart took his fine opportunity to fix his gaze from Carol to Kenny. The swift punch landed just under the blond’s right eye, his father’s ring cutting open his cheek and the impact splitting his lip. The blond was knocked to the ground before he knew what hit him. Stuart followed up with two hard kicks to the blond’s ribs before storming out the front door. Kenny’s vision swam as he tried to reconcile what had transpired so quickly, coughing up small amounts of blood onto the always dirty living room carpet. His mother’s eyes fixated on the slammed door before retreating into the kitchen for a beer and flopping on the couch, attention focused on whatever random TV show was currently airing. The blond rolled slowly to his knees, internally testing himself before standing and making his way down the hall to the small dingy bathroom across from his room to assess the damage. He stared at himself in the filmy mirror, tenderly poking at his cheekbone to try and feel for a break around the bloodied cut. He sucked in a sharp breath at the pain the examination was causing, changing strategies to instead wiping up the oozing blood with a damp washcloth. Once he had the blood removed from his cheek, lip, and where it trailed down his chin to his neck he tossed the dirty cloth to the floor. The bleeding had finally stopped his cheek and lip red and inflamed, the cut on his cheek extended from about a half inch under his right eye following along the bone for another 2 inches. His bottom lip was split at the corner of his mouth receding inwardly; he could still taste the coppery blood as he ran his tongue along the inside of his lip, wincing slightly at the pain. Noticing the blood on the collar of his hoodie he stripped it off and washed the spots away in the bathroom sink, once satisfied he retreated to his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. The blond’s ribs were on fire and made it hard to breathe, he pulled his tee gingerly over his head with one arm and felt along his ribs with the other, again feeling for broken bones. He turned back to his now closed door and viewed himself in the full length mirror that hung there. The black and purple splotches were already starting to bloom along his left side where the steel toed boot had struck, a stark contrast to his pale, bordering on porcelain, skin. The blond looked at himself thoroughly in the mirror, his long lanky legs hidden under slightly baggy worn jeans barely held to his too thin waist by his belt and small jut of slender hip bones. Lean muscle stretched under his skin, developed by years of fighting back or running away depending on what the situation called for, his stomach smooth and flat up to a more slightly developed chest and expanse of shoulders. He could see how his muscles moved when he flexed ever so slightly, as if they were wound like dangerous snake ready to strike. Shoulders to biceps and arms toned from throwing as many punches as were thrown at him, his arms slight from the elbow down to almost tiny wrists and long thin fingers. His back a toned mirror image, strong shoulders that could carry more than they let on, more lean muscle down the length of his spine to the delicate inward curve at the small of his back before the firm contour of his ass. For all his hardships his skin was soft and unblemished, creamy pale porcelain, only his hands had a working man callous to them. From his narrow neck he had a strong jawline, bordering on hard depending his emotions, faint dimples could sometimes be seen when the blond allowed himself to smile, his smile could be used to light up a room or seduce a willing bedmate, that almost perfect mix of cocky lusty innocence. His nose, small and upturned, helped to soften and balance out the set of his jaw or the hardness that he often forced in his eyes. Electric blue eyes, so true blue, swirls of pale and medium blues reminiscent of Swiss blue topaz, the darkest of the medium blue ringing his irises, so immediately striking you can get lost in them and miss the bright energetic undertones. Blond hair completed the picture, it was a warm honey golden color, glowing vibrantly when the sunlight shone upon it, the very slightly wavy tendrils were effortlessly layered, falling just barely around his ears at the sides but longer along the top creating a slight fringe that would occasionally creep into his line of sight, soft and silky to the touch when he’d run his hand through his hair, a small nervous gesture that still lingered despite himself. This was Kenny McCormick, the once playboy of the town whose tight sexy body and devious attitude could get anyone he wanted in bed with him, the life of the party, and caring friend to any in need. While the image in the mirror hadn’t changed the world around him did, instead of standing out in the crowd, he sunk further into the background. ‘ _Maybe it was him that changed?_ ’ was the nagging thought in his head.

He turned from the mirror finally, removing his jeans and replacing them with softer cotton sleep pants and a thin sleep shirt. He was beaten and exhausted. He reclined back on his bed and grabbed up the cigarettes, lighter and ashtray from his bedside table. With shaking hands he lit the cigarette and inhaled as deep as his aching ribs allowed before coughing slightly and slowing exhaling. The cough shot white hot pain searing through his ribs and he had to grit his teeth through his exhale. He calmed himself over the next two consecutive cigarettes, his hands were no longer trembling and all his hard fought control over his emotions and expressions slipped back into place. He shut off the dim table lamp, lay back fully on his poor excuse for a bed, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

 

***


	2. The Noirette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day, Craig's POV

{The Noirette}

 

He lay flat on his back in bed as the morning light lightly shone through his window, hitting his eyes and causing him to wake before his normal alarm. He growled more to himself than anyone else at the annoyance of it all, not being a morning person in the slightest. He wanted his extra few minutes of sleep that the sun has now decided to rob from him, ‘ _not like I was fuckin’ sleeping anyways_ ’ he swears to himself. No, sleep had not come easily last night; instead he kept tossing and turning, his mind flitting to thoughts of the blond in Art class. Why the fuck was it bothering him so? Not like he cared about many people in his life, or if he did that he would ever admit such a thing, and fuck it, him and McCormick weren’t even friends, they’ve barely spoken two words to each other in years and that was perfectly acceptable for the noirette. The blond had his group of friends, always getting in their own brand of bullshit and trouble and the noirette had his, Clyde, Tweek and Token. He had been cursing himself all night for not being able to get the blond’s image out of his head. ‘ _Fuck it_ ’, he turned off the alarm and stormed out of bed to the bathroom.

The noirette stripped down for a shower, tossing dirty clothes in the laundry bin, and turning on the tub faucet to heat up the water. The bathroom mirror capturing parts of his image as he worked on testing the water temperature and brushing his teeth. His hair was an inky black with subtle blue highlights when the light hit it just right, thick and straight, it was styled long and layered. His eyes a swirling mix of blue and gray with accents of white in the iris, cold and hard like polished and oiled steel, gunmetal blue. They hold a secret shine that very few are privileged to witness.  His nose just ever so slightly crooked from the number of times it was broken. He has a strong bullish physique, hard muscle easily seen in the bathroom light, pulling skin taunt around them. The noirette was known for being one of the strongest and tallest people in the school; he could easily rival the majority of the standard athletes, having kicked any number of their asses on occasion. His skin is pale gold from the lack of sun but blemish free. The muscles from this shoulders and chest lead down to a thin waist, an enviable body by most people’s standards. The water was warm enough and steam crept up to fill the room. He got in the shower and let the water beat down upon him, trying to forcibly burn away the images of the night. He scrubbed at his skin and hair, enjoying the heat on his skin until the water started to run cool. Sighing he shut off the taps and grabbed a towel to dry himself, running the fluffy cloth along his skin to remove the lingering water droplets. He brought up the towel to his hair, working it to extract the dampness that clung to his locks, shaking his head thoroughly as his hair fell into its normal style and patterns. He wrapped the towel securely around his waist as he retreated to his bedroom.

The noirette went to his closet and pulled out a dark pair of jeans, comfortably worn in, a dark navy tee with an abstract image splattered across it and tugged the clothing items on after tossing the wet towel to the corner of his room. He completed his outfit with his blue coat and broken in black combat style boots. He went down stairs to join the rest of his family for a quick breakfast. His mother, father and sister already in the midst of a casual conversation as he descended the stairs, he took his seat at the table and ate the eggs and bacon that his mother had prepared, eating as the conversation turned to white noise around him, happy to not have to engage.

He took his empty plate to the sink and mumbled goodbyes to his family, stepping out into the cold Colorado morning to his 1990 blue Ford F250. The noirette climbed in and turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life moments later. He took his pack of Marlboros from the center console and lit one up while he backed out from the driveway. He turned down the street and proceeded to drive the short distance to the high school. As he drove he caught a glimpse of the teen in the fading orange hoodie walking in the direction of the school, head down and obscured by the hood he wore, smoke trailing around him as he walked. The noirette swore to himself for even noticing the blond and he continued the drive to the school, he arrived a short time later and found his usual spot next to Token’s shiny new black Escalade. The usual gang already gathered around the front of the vehicle talking. He grabbed his bag and cigarettes from his truck and went over to join them.

“’Sup Craig?” Clyde greeted, Token giving a slight nod of acknowledgment and saw Tweek smiling fully at the noirette.

“Same shit, ya know.” Was all Craig replied.

The group went back to chatting about the upcoming school day and possible plans for the approaching weekend. The noirette fell into the easy conversation, trying not to notice the blond slipping into the building farther ahead of them. The warning bell for the first class rang too quickly and the group started walking into the school and on to their respective classes. Craig dismissing himself from the group with a nod to his classroom, he paused slightly at the door when he caught sight of the blond sitting in his seat in the far back corner of the room. The blond’s head was down as he focused on the sheet in front of him, his hood up and obscuring his face entirely from anyone’s notice. The noirette shook himself from his observations of the blond and entered the classroom with the rest of the students, taking notice of how everyone was already pairing back up, moving desks around again to get better looks at each other for the project. The empty desk he used yesterday was in its place in front of the blond’s occupied desk. He grabbed it, scraped it along the linoleum tiling of the room so it faced the blond instead of the front of the classroom. The blond never stirred, too engrossed in what he was doing to pay attention to anyone else. Irritation flared up in the noirette at the lack of acknowledgment, rage building from his gut. He took a beat and went over to the counter to gather up the supplies that he would need for the class, and returned to the seat across from the blond, slamming down items more forcefully then needed for the situation to try and get a rise out of his partner. Nothing. No twitch, no glance or glare, no change in breath. The growl slipped abruptly through his lips at the blond, unable to control his growing frustrations. The noirette tried then to catch a look at what the blond was working on this time, considering he was sure that the last image the blond drew was of his eye, but the blond had his arm in front of the page on the desk effectively blocking what the noirette tried to see. ‘ _Fucker_ ’ he thought as he arranged the materials on his desk and looked over the start of his portrait from the day before. The pencil from the other stilled and he heard the slight shuffling of pages as the blond found what he was looking for in his sketchbook, a small sigh was the only other thing he heard from the blond before the bell for the start of class rang.

The blond kept his head down, hood still up around him, much to the chagrin of the noirette. He’d had enough of this bullshit; there was no way he could get the assignment done with his partner so thoroughly hiding himself in this way. He kicked the blond’s leg hard under the desk; a barely audible curse escaped the blond as his head inched up to scowl at the noirette.

The blond grit his teeth as he swore, “the fuck, Tucker.” The fury was radiating from the blond, like a raging fire threatening to burn anyone who got to close.

It was then that the noirette could see what the blond was so obviously trying to hide; the sickly purple and reddish bruise under his right eye, the ragged cut along the cheekbone, and the split bottom corner of his lip.

“Fuck dude,” the words tumbled out softly before the noirette could stop them.

The blond’s striking true-blue eyes studied him closely at the sentiment, his deeper emotions a highly guarded mystery to the noirette, but he could feel the rage surrounding the blond quelling. The noirette was locked in the blond’s gaze until the blond shrugged and pushed back the hood covering him, running his fingers through his hair at the motion, the eye contact finally broken.

The moment fading they went back to their respective portraits of one another much like the day before; a delicate but calculated dance of eyes wandering over each other’s features, trying to capture the images from their perceptions on to the paper. The noirette was lost in the rhythm, trying his best interpret the blond’s figure while taking in the obvious changes from the day before, cursing internally at his lack of artistic ability, the hindrance that it was because his hand betrayed what he was trying to put to paper, until he noticed the blond closing the sketchbook before him pulling him from his mind and movements. He watched the blond packing up his meager belongings in to his bag, pulling his hood back up on his head until he was once again hidden behind fading orange.

The instructor spoke, reminding students to return their desks to the proper positions as the bell signaling the end of class rang. The noirette gathered up his borrowed supplies, returned them to the counter, and moved the desk back where it belonged. The blond was already gone, slipped out when he was putting his supplies away.

He couldn’t get the image of the blond out of his head, no matter how he tried to focus on anything else. Trying to calm his mind for his next class, Chemistry, unaided seemed like a sadistic joke, so he headed from the Art classroom to the back of the school and out to the crisp cool air, sun shining brightly on the snow almost blinding him from the sight. He took his pack of cigarettes and lit one quickly, taking a long drag allowing the smoke to fill his lungs, holding it there to embrace the nicotine rush, until the smoke seeped from his nostrils and his subsequent slow exhale from his lips. His vision cleared from the sparkling white snow and he saw then that he was not alone. Not but a few steps ahead was the blond, smoking his own cigarette and watching the noirette with a carefully guarded expression.

‘ _Shit_ ’, wasn’t he fucking out here to escape him? No, instead this is someone’s cosmic joke to force the two of them into a situation together, alone.

 

“McCormick,” the noirette managed to say brusquely, trying to control his tone and facial expressions.

“Tucker,” the blond replied, his voice low and emotions hidden.

 

‘ _Fuck it_ ’, the noirette thought quickly as he closed the distance between himself and the blond with a casual stride.

 

“So what happened?” he casually asked the blond who was still staring at him.

“Dad got ta’ me instead of my mom last night,” the blond replied carefully, “clocked me good before leavin’.”

He watched the blond take a long drag from his cigarette and wince, absently running his free hand lightly along his side.

“That all huh?” Craig asked warily.

“Nah, kicked me twice in the ribs ta’ top it all off.” The blond dropped his hand from his side.

The noirette could only nod at that and take another hit from his cigarette.

It was no secret to anyone in town that Kenny’s dad was a raging alcoholic and would regularly beat the shit out of his wife or two boys; the only saving grace of the shitty situation was that it seemed the youngest McCormick, Karen, was exempt from his fist. Craig knew from when they were kids that Kenny made sure to protect his baby sister from the worst their parents could dish out, taking any number of beatings so long as she was safe from them. He imagined things hadn’t changed much since then. The only thing he knew for certain was that Karen spent a lot of time hanging with his own sister Ruby, often staying the night.

A strange nagging in the back of his brain forced the next words from his mouth.

“Thought you normally avoid your place when he got like that?”

The blond was visibly struggling for a reply, taking another quick hit from his cigarette and kicking at the snow with his boot, now avoiding eye contact with the noirette whereas before he was openly staring. A war in his mind was occurring before the noirette, he shook himself slightly and brought his electric blue eyes back up to meet the noirette’s gunmetal ones. A swirl of emotions in his eyes that are normally so calculated so as not to ever forsake what the blond is feeling or thinking.

“Don’t have any options anymore, and it’s too cold outside all night,” the blond spoke the cold truth in a whisper, something small breaking inside of him as he admitted this to another.

“What about…” Craig began to counter but seeing the hurt flash in the blond’s eyes he couldn’t finish. The emotion in the other too raw, the noirette knew now that something had happened between the blond and his friends, just not exactly what that might have been.

“I see,” he said instead to the blond.

He watched the blond take another cigarette and light it, schooling his facial expression back to neutral, burying the emotions that threatened to spill out just moments ago. Calm and collected, tightly controlled. The change was quick but the noirette caught it as the blond slipped back into his mask and armor so he could hide from the world.

“It is what it is,” the blond dismissed as though nothing had happened.

“You know where I live,” Craig replied to that before he had a chance to think of the implications.

The blond nodded stiffly, restraining himself from saying something, forcing himself to control his countenance.

The noirette flicked his cigarette to the side and walked away from the blond, back to the school. He sought out solitude in the bathroom, needing to compose himself, thoughts and feelings, from the raw exchange he had with the blond.

‘ _Fuck me_ ’ he thought, trying to rationalize what he was thinking and feeling. Why did he care what happened to the blond? Why was he trying to reach out? Deep down he knew why, but that was something he didn’t want to admit to anyone, let alone to himself.

He stayed in the bathroom until the bell rang for his next class. At least Phys Ed would keep his body busy and maybe his mind would follow.

He caught sight of Token as he left the bathroom and fell instep next to his friend. Token noticed him instantly and they chatted comfortably as they walked to the class together. Once at the Gym they headed to the locker room to change into more comfortable work out clothing before heading back to the main floor. The instructor led the class through stretches and warm ups before they broke into 2 teams for an indoor flag football matchup. The game went easily enough, occupying the noirette’s mind as he played. Time wound down and the game was ended, the instructor releasing the students back to the locker rooms to shower and change.

Once back in his normal clothes the noirette headed out with Token to the cafeteria. They met up with Clyde and Tweek at their normal table. The thoughts of the blond finally pushed from his mind as he talked with his friends, Token relaying the results of the flag football game and how he scored twice. The conversation flowed easily around him, allowing him to actively contribute when he felt like it. It wasn’t until Clyde stood up that Craig caught a glimpse of the blond.  

The lunchroom tables are arranged in a loose “T” formation, Kenny’s group sitting at a table on the length of the “T” while Craig’s group sat at a different table that made up the top of the same “T”.  Kyle and Stan on one side and Cartman and Kenny on the other, Clyde and Token sat with their backs to the other table with Tweek and Craig across from them. The noirette had a clear line of sight to the blond once Clyde removed himself from his seat.

He watched the blond intently, at first it struck him as odd that he was even sitting with them at all considering the conversation they had outside. But the more he watched the more he realized that although the conversation was flowing freely Kenny wasn’t a part of any of it. In fact it didn’t seem like the others actually saw the blond at their table. How could a person be so thoroughly ignored? It went on for so long that the noirette had a knot in his stomach, to the rest of the group it seemed like the blond wasn’t even there, no flicker of a glance his way, no notice when he gathered up his tray and backpack and left the table, no change in conversation to indicate that they wanted to say something out of the blond’s earshot. It was as though the blond was a mere ghost in their presence. Anger welled within the noirette; he wanted to punch each of them. Tweek put a trembling hand on the noirette’s shoulder, pulling him back from his thoughts to focus on the jittery blond next to him.

“C-Craig?” Tweek squeaked out.

The noirette brought his eyes to his friend, seeing the question lingering there even as the words struggled to come out.

“I’m good Tweek” he calmly replied.

“GAH – Ya’ sure?” Tweek prattled on.

“Yeah I’m sure, let’s get to class,” he replied, forcing himself into a calmer state to ease the blond next to him.

“Ok!” came the squeaked reply.

The noirette took the others tray with his own and walked with him out of the cafeteria and on to their shared English class.

The day normalized, no more glimpses or trailing thoughts of the blond, Craig went about his routine with his friends and classes. After school he drove to his part time job at the small pet supply store in town, his shift was uneventful to say the least. Back at home he ate dinner with his mother and younger sister, his father apparently working late again, or out at the bar, whatever excuse it was today. He retreated to his room later to work on some of his homework before changing for bed and falling asleep.

 

***


	3. The Blond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third day, Kenny POV

{The Blond}

 

It was a new day; luckily the blond was able to avoid his father the night before, choosing to enter his room via the window instead of trying the front door. He locked himself away and tried to sleep through the screaming. With the morning his parents were well and truly passed out, so he could go about his daily routine without interruptions.

As he walked to school he let his mind wander back to the noirette; back to their exchanges in Art class and again behind the school. How worked up the noirette had gotten by the blond’s avoidance of him at the beginning of the class, but the softness that was in his voice when he saw the marks on the blond’s face. How the noirette studied him under the pretense of the art project, changing the drawing he was working on to encompass the new marks upon the blond. Even when the blond sought to escape the interactions and lingering looks of the noirette only to come face to face with him alone at the back of the school. Cursing himself again at his loss of control over his emotions during their talk, and how perceptive the noirette was at the unspoken words. How the blond’s heart skipped a beat at the offer from the other, a safe haven from the storm. His baby sister Karen spent many a night and day away from the McCormick house since their father’s behavior was increasingly erratic and violent, more often than not with the noirette’s sister Ruby.  How he had felt him watching him again in the lunch room, even more so than the first time, so much that he heard Tweek questioning him though not realizing what the noirette was doing really.

The blond continued to mull over these thoughts as he was approaching the building. He flicked away the last of his cigarette before entering and heading to the Art classroom.

Head down he walked to his classroom, accidently shouldering someone before reaching the doorway.

“AY! Watch it Kinny!” Cartman snapped at the blond.

“Fuck off Fatass,” was the automatic reply. The blond glanced up then to look at Cartman but the other’s focus was on something else. Sighing he walked into the room and took his seat in the back corner.

He was still slightly surprised that Cartman had even noticed him enough to comment, but then again he did run into him. The unwanted thought drifted back into his mind, ‘ _was it me that changed?_ ’ he tried to quickly trace in his mind when everything had changed but there was never a time or situation to pinpoint. He couldn’t even recall anyone asking him if something was wrong so he could express his feelings, it was just like he was there one minute and not the next.

The desk in front of him moved and interrupted his thoughts, picked up this time instead of the scraping along of the last two days. He watched through the blond fringe in his eyes as the noirette set the desk into its position and went to gather his supplies, finally returning and sitting down across from him. He nodded an acknowledgment at the noirette when their eyes met.

“Hey McCormick,” Craig spoke gently to him.

The blond just nodded again, his voice stuck in his throat as he fought himself for control. He brought his bag up to the desk and took out his sketchbook and graphite pencils, dropping his bag back to the floor when he was done. The book had landed open on his desk and the noirette was studying the images drawn within, reaching out to slide the book more towards him as he took in the drawings. Uneasiness crept along the blond’s spine and he grit his teeth but he made no move to stop the noirette. He watched him flip though some of the pages, stopping when he got to the eye that the blond drew the first day. A hum of approval escaped the noirette.

“These are good,” he said simply.

‘ _Shit, does he know_ ’ the blond thought, still watching the noirette study the page. He remained silent, not knowing where this was headed.

“I can’t draw this well, but that pretty apparent to most,” the noirette gestured towards his own work. It was much cruder, lacked the refinement of the blond’s skilled hand, or the depth of colorization even when using only graphite.

“I could help you clean it up,” the blond ventured carefully.

Shining gunmetal blue eyes flicked up to meet his, trying to read the blond, when that proved unsuccessful the noirette nodded ‘yes’ instead, and slid the book back across to the blond.

They went back to their individual work, a comfortable silence falling between them as they drew. Time ticking away in the background, until the blond noticed class was almost up, he sighed and closed his book. The noirette took notice and glanced over his shoulder to see the clock on the wall. Realizing that class was almost up he followed the blond’s lead in returning his supplies and rearranging the desk to its original spot. Before the bell rang the noirette slipped a small piece of paper on the blond’s desk, a phone number, ‘ _his phone number_ ’ the blond thought, his heart rate increasing. He looked up to see the noirette still lingering near, the blond clutched the paper and shoved it in his pocket, the other nodded his approval, the bell rang, and he left with the rest of the students as Kenny remained in his seat a moment longer. Pulling himself from his stupor he gathered his backpack and walked towards his next class. As much as he wanted a cigarette, he had already skipped this class twice this week, and decided to attend for once; hoping the monotone of the teacher would work as effectively to clear his mind.

There’d be no lectures today though, a video was presented instead. The blond taking half-assed notes on the main themes, until it was time to turn them in before class ended. He laid the paper on the instructor’s desk and walked out with the rest.

He walked toward the math wing, not paying attention to anyone around him as he moved through the hallways. He was almost to the doorway when he saw that Stan was walking right next to him. No one said a word to the other just took their respective seats in the class and followed along with the teacher’s lesson plan.

Once Algebra was over, Kenny left the room and again Stan was walking in step with him, both heading to the cafeteria. It was starting to make the blond uneasy, wrestling with the sudden familiar presence but lacking the verbal acknowledgment of one another. Stan wasn’t even looking at him as he matched strides with the blond, as if this was a normal thing to him. Whereas it was starting to piss off the blond, the cliché combination of ‘being so close, yet so far away’ came to mind instantly. The break came when Stan headed off to their normal table as the blond waited in the queue for his food. After Kenny retrieved his tray he headed over to the table and slid in unnoticed next to Cartman. The earlier encounter seemed like a fluke now as the blond listened to the group talking amongst themselves, paying no mind to the fourth person at the table with them. The blond returned instead to his food, keeping his head low and trying to squash the bubbling negative emotions within.

He slipped back into his patterns, clearing his tray when he was finished and heading off to the next classes. Once school was out he walked to work, completed his uneventful shift and headed back home. The sounds around him as he walked home became a hum of white noise. He didn’t hear the screaming as he turned the handle of the front door. The door was whipped out of his hand in his daze, his father rushing angrily past him, the blond spun sideways and fell with his father’s push and momentum; his forehead impacted the pavement as his father sped off in the rusty old pickup into the night. It took a few long minutes for what happened to catch up with the blond, he pressed cold fingers to his forehead, they returned crimson. He was dizzy from the force of the impact and cold from being in the snow, all he wanted was a warm shower and quiet place to sleep, and those things wouldn’t be found at the McCormick house.

He grabbed the scrap of paper from his pocket and his old cell phone and sent off a text to the new number.

**Kenny: u home**

**Craig: yea**

**Kenny: u busy**

**Craig: nah dude**

The blond paused, trying to find a way to ask for what he wanted, needed, from the noirette.

**Craig: just come over already**

But the noirette already knew.

**Kenny: k**

The blond picked himself up from the freezing ground and dusted off as much of the snow as he could; balance wavering slightly in his dizzied state, and walked towards the noirette’s house. The walk was short but the thin blond was freezing and shaking by the time he reached the other’s front door. He knocked quickly on the door, the noirette opening it for him moments later. The blond saw the concern flicker through gunmetal blue eyes before a hardness set in, the noirette gestured for him to come inside. The blond nodded, defeated, and stepped through the threshold. The warmth overtook him first as the door shut behind him; the smell of food was the next to hit his senses, glancing up he saw the noirette studying him.

“Just leave your boots at the door, my room is upstairs, first on the right,” Craig said as he walked in the direction of the stairs, expecting the blond to follow him.

Kenny quickly kicked off his boots, noticing a familiar set near the spot that the noirette had indicated. ‘ _Hmm…. Karen’s here too_ ’ he thought as he followed a small distance behind the other boy up the stairs. They reached Craig’s room and the noirette indicated for the blond to sit on the bed. He took off his backpack and hoodie, setting them on the floor at the end of the bed before sitting as told. His forehead was still bloody but the cold air during the walk over had aided in stopping the blood flow.

The noirette returned to the room with a washcloth, and before the blond could protest he cupped his chin with his freehand, tilting the blond’s head up toward the ceiling so the noirette could better clean up the wound. The blond focusing instead on breathing through the pain and trying to force away the dizzy spell. Once the noirette seemed satisfied with his cleanup job he finally spoke again.

“You okay?” he said, his jaw tight.

“Just clumsy,” the blond tried to quip sarcastically.

Craig wasn’t buying it. The look in his eyes was as hard and cold as the steel that could be used to describe their coloring.

“I already heard half of it when your sister showed up an hour ago,” he tried again.

“I caught him on his way out is all; it really was more of an accident than anything, my head hittin’ the pavement instead of his fist,” he told him honestly, but on a quieter note, “is Karen okay?”

“Yeah dude, she’s fine, left out the back I guess when it got heated.” Craig replied softly.

“’Kay, good,” the blond replied meekly.

He watched Craig go to the dresser and pull out some clothing items, a shirt sleep pants and boxers, and set them on the bed.

“You’ve gotta be freezing, bathroom is across the hall, towels on the rack, go take a shower,” the concern dusting his words as he spoke.

The blond nodded, and headed off towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He took off the rest of his clothing and set them in a pile on the floor. He pulled back the shower curtain enough to turn on the taps and wait for the water to warm up; once it was just shy of scalding he got in and pulled the curtain closed. The blond let the water rain down on his skin, the tension in his muscles flowing away with the heat. The water warming his body temperature so he no longer shook from the cold. He took the bar of soap that was in the shower and scrubbed himself clean; he quickly shampooed his hair and rinsed it out as the water was starting to cool. Once all traces of soap and shampoo were washed away he turned off the taps. He opened the curtain and took the towel from the rack, rubbing the towel through his hair first and then along his body to remove the lingering water from his skin. Once he was more or less dried off he wrapped the towel around his waist, grabbed his clothing from the floor and headed back across the hallway to the bedroom. Craig was seated at his desk, watching random internet videos on his laptop until the blond returned. When he saw him he got up from his seat and took the blond’s clothes from him as well as the hoodie that was on the floor and headed toward the door.

“Hungry?” he asked to the bewildered blond.

“Uh, yeah, if it’s no trouble,” the blonde stuttered out.

“No it’s cool, I’ll be back in a few, you can get dressed in here,” he said casually as he shut the door.

The blond was at a loss, wasn’t quite sure how to feel, and trying to figure out if this was caused more by the action of his head smacking the pavement or the way the noirette was treating him. He dropped the towel and picked up the items from the bed that were set out for him to wear. The boxers were soft against his skin, just slightly bigger in the waist than what he would normally wear but fit well enough, the pants were a light gray, some kind of warm flannel material, and long on the blond, he knew Craig was taller than him but the length of the pants made that abundantly more clear. He hadn’t got the shirt on before there was a small knock on the door.

“Yeah,” he called out quietly.

The noirette opened the door, walked in and shut it again before glancing at the blond by his bed. The plate in his hand wobbled and threatened to crash to the floor before he regained his composure. A million thoughts ran through his mind as he took in the image of the blond, topless, with his back to him, before he saw the discoloration on his side. He set the plate on the desk silently, removing the bottle of pop from his pocket to join the plate and walked quickly to the blond, taking his arm and spinning him slightly to get a better look at his battered ribcage.

The blond was startled by the action, and tensed under the inspection. The noirette held his arm in one hand while the other crept up slowly to brush against his skin. The blond was absolutely rigid. Slightly rough fingertips danced across his skin along the bruising, a small press here and there caused the blond to breathe in sharply from the pain.

“Fuck dude, sorry, I didn’t think it was this bad, you sure you don’t have a broken rib or five,” the noirette rambled softly during his examination.

“I don’t think so,” was all the blond managed to say after a beat.

It was like a visible snap; the noirette dropped the blond’s arm suddenly and quickly retreated to the other side of the room. As if he hadn’t realized until that moment what he was doing, how close he was to the blond, the heat he felt from his skin as he touched him. He shook himself and cursed under his breath. He stood there and waited for the blond to make the next move.

The blond cocked his head and looked at the noirette, mind slow to catch up with the sudden change, he turned back around, grabbed the shirt and pulled it on over his head, now fully clothed he sat back on the bed, his back resting against the wall, and looked back at the noirette.

A few tense moments passed until the noirette grabbed up the plate and pop, walked over and presented them to the blond. Baked chicken and mashed potatoes, the blond was practically drooling when he saw, he eagerly took the plate and dug in. He couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual meal. He reminisced in his mind the number of dinners he used to have at his friends places, Kyle’s mom was the best cook of them all and the blond had many different dishes at the Broflovski residence. He hummed happily to himself as he ate, the noirette watching him from his seat at the desk, a small smile ghosting his features. Once the noirette saw that he was finished he returned to the bed and took the plate from the blond’s lap.

“Want any more?”

The blond considered that for a moment, but thought against it, “No, thanks though.”

Nodding the noirette left the room, he returned a few minutes later, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“You’re clothes are in the dryer now, they’ll be ready for you for tomorrow.” He spoke as he approached the bed and sat down on its edge.

“Thanks man, you didn’t have to go through all that trouble,” the blond replied quietly.

“No trouble, um, wanna watch a movie or something?” he spoke quickly.

“Sure, you pick,” was the casual reply.

The noirette removed the laptop from the desk and returned to the bed, propping a pillow behind him, covering up with the blankets and slightly reclining against the headboard, he set the laptop in front of him and browsed through the movie torrents. Taking note of the noirette’s position the blond moved himself along the wall carefully and up next to boy, shoulder to shoulder now, he pulled the blankets back into a better arrangement and covered himself up with them slightly. The noirette didn’t seem to mind the sudden closeness, or at least wasn’t reacting to it that the blond could sense. A movie was chosen and the noirette repositioned the laptop so they each could see it easier. Comfortable silence fell between them as the opening credits played. The movie continued on and the blond stifled a yawn, his head lolling to the side as sleep tried to overtake him. He inched down in the bed and absently rested his head on the other boy’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut. The noirette regarded him with a sideways glance but made no move against him, allowing the contact to continue instead. The movie concluded about half an hour later. The noirette closed his laptop, dipping his body to the side to set the item on the floor, the blond stirred next to him at the movement, wiping sleep from his eyes he made motion to leave the bed but the noirette grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

“Dude, its fine, just lay down,” he said softly, slightly unsure of himself.

The blond didn’t have words for this, he was fully expecting to sleep on the floor or on the couch downstairs, and this turn of events wasn’t even a possibility in his mind. All he could do was stare questioningly at the noirette next to him, the others eyes lost to shadows in the dim lighting of the room.

“It’s okay, really, it’s just sleep,” he said softly to the question in the bright blue eyes.

The blond took the invitation and settled himself in the bed, head resting on the comfortable pillow, and body enveloped by the comfy mattress; he pulled the blankets up to his chest, left arm resting under the pillow and the other across his chest. The noirette flicked off the light on the nightstand and laid himself back on the bed, arms tucked loosely to his sides.

The noirette listened to the slow even breathing of the blond next to him, relaxing himself at the sound.

A whisper came through the night, “Thanks Craig.”

The noirette hummed his acknowledgment as the blond repositioned himself to his side, facing the noirette, his right arm now under his head and pillow, the other resting against the noirette’s arm at his side, left leg bent and slightly pulled towards his chest. A contented sigh escaped the blond in his sleepy state, this breathing slowed again as exhaustion won out and sleep overtook him.

The noirette watched and listened in these moments, knew when the blond was finally sleeping comfortably, the peacefulness evident on his features, no mask to hide behind here. He smiled at the boy next to him, the earlier unease of their closeness now long gone, he turned and gave him a soft kiss to his forehead before allowing sleep to take him too.

 

***


	4. The Noirette – Middle of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig wakes in the middle of the night, Craig POV -- Short Chapter

{The Noirette – Middle of the Night}

 

The noirette awoke suddenly at the blond struggling next to him, flailing slightly under the covers and whining in a bare whisper. The blond’s legs kicked softly and his hands moved under the covers as the noirette watched him intently, the moonlight streaming through the window highlighting the blond’s features.

“Too hot,” the blond slurred sleepily, eyes still closed.

The noirette didn’t respond to this but rather lay on his back and watched him curiously out of the corner of his eyes.

The blond pulled out something from the blankets before throwing it across the room, the sleep pants that the noirette had lent him landed on the floor without a sound. Seemingly not being content with just that the blond sat up just enough to pull his shirt off with one hand and throw it to the floor too. A contented sigh escaped from the still semi-sleeping blond before he settled himself back on the bed. The noirette still too scared to move at this point, too scared to utter a word.

The blond wiggled against him in an attempt to get comfortable again, moving closer to the noirette in his sleep induced state, to finally rest his head in the crook of others shoulder, turning his body more fully against him and lightly resting his arm across the noirette’s waist, tracing the small amount of exposed skin he found with his long delicate fingers, underneath the covers the blond hitched his left leg up to rest on top of the others leg intertwining them and inching his leg up until the blond’s knee rested comfortably just below the noirette’s most sensitive body part. The noirette struggled to control his breathing and the uptick in his heart rate at the blond’s intimate embrace.

The blond practically purred, “mmm much better.”

The noirette was frozen, listening to the blond’s breathing deepen as he fell back to sleep, his fingers lazily drawing endless shapes on the skin of the noirette’s waist near his hipbone. As sleep more thoroughly overtook the blond again the fingers against his skin stilled. The noirette let out a small shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He studied the blond for a few more moments, taking in the way the moonlight made his hair glow, a soft golden honey color, and how the shadows hid the marks that were left on his face from the most recent abuse he suffered.

‘ _Fuck me_ ’ the noirette thought wistfully to himself. He unfurled his arm from underneath his pillow and pulled the blond more fully into his side, caressing the small of the blond’s back, touching the soft skin with light brushes of his fingertips. He ducked his head down slightly to the blond’s and placed a small kiss on the top of his head, breathing in his scent before relaxing his head back against his pillow. The blissful embrace allowing sleep to come back to him easily.

 

***


	5. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning, Craig and Kenny's POV

{Together}

 

The second time the noirette woke was for an entirely different reason. An urgent buzzing was coming from the bedside table; vaguely his mind recognized that it was his morning alarm going off. He reached out his arm and grabbed at the phone buzzing and bouncing along the manufactured wood. He tapped the side button to silence the alarm before glancing at the time on the display, it was almost time for school, he sighed and looked back at the blond still wrapped around his body, snoring softly. No, school could wait, the opened the app he needed and tapped out the messages with one hand.

**Craig: hey, I’m not feelin well, not gonna go in today**

**Mom: hunny are you sure, do you need me to get you something?**

**Craig: just didn’t sleep well, headache**

**Mom: you sure it doesn’t have something to do with the extra set of boots at the door?**

‘ _Shit_ ’ Craig thought at the accusation.

**Craig: uh well…**

**Mom: Karen mentioned they’re her brothers before her and Ruby left this morning, is everything okay?**

**Craig: I think it will be, just need another day is all**

**Mom: okay hun, I’ll call you both out for the day, just let me know if there’s anything I can do**

**Craig: I will, thank you**

**Mom: of course, your dad and I will be home late tonight, I’ll leave money on the counter for you, Kenny and the girls for dinner, love you**

**Craig: love you**

The noirette smiled fondly thinking of his mother. He never understood how she and her father fit together, whereas she was all love, understanding, patience and kindness, well his father was none of those things, he was hard, cynical, mean and quick tempered. For as much as he got from his father, he was glad to know that in these moments, with the blond sleeping peacefully next to him, that maybe he got more from his mother than he realized.

He scrolled through the apps on his phone to the one for the alarm and turned it off, he went next to the settings and silenced the vibration feature as well so as not to be disturbed again. He had one more round of messages to make though.

**Craig: hey, can you do me a favor and grab my assignments for me today? Let the others know I won’t be in**

**Tweek: sure Craig, everything okay?**

**Craig: yeah, it’s no worry I promise, I’ll be fine**

**Tweek: okay, I’ll let you know about your stuff after school**

**Craig: thanks Tweek**

Now that he was done being responsible for the day he could go back to the blond beside him. He slid his phone on to the nightstand and wrapped his arm around the one that was still draped across his waist, his other arm around the back of the blond, pulling him closer and kissing him lightly on the forehead, his fingers found the skin on the small of the others back easily and he softly traced shapes and swirls against his skin. Something about the blond just brought out the affectionate side of the noirette and for once he was going with it; protection, love maybe, he didn’t know or care at this point, he was just determined not to shy away from it like he had so many times before.

A faint moan slipped from the blond’s lips as he stirred slightly.

“Mmmm that’s nice,” he purred drowsily.

The noirette smiled and kissed the top of the blond’s head, watching as the other slowly tried to pull himself from sleep’s grasp.

The blond opened his eyes finally to look up at the noirette, bright and electric, his emotions dancing wild and freely through his gaze.

“Jeeze Tucker, if you wanted me naked in your bed all you had to do was ask,” the blond tried to joke sarcastically, but those true-blue eyes of his betrayed the underlying emotions he was trying to hide with the snide comment. The blond was reveling in the closeness and the embrace, the look in his eyes were clear as day to the watchful noirette.

“You did that all on your own and you know it,” the noirette softly quipped back.

“Sure it’s not just ‘cause you wanna fuck me?” the blond tried again but the words sounded fake and forced.

“Shhh Kenny, we’re havin’ a moment here if you’d shut your pretty mouth,” the noirette gently scolded.

The rebuttal was stuck in the blond’s throat, ‘ _you think I have a pretty mouth huh, want me to show you?_ ’ because the blond’s heart was racing at the use of his first name. Craig didn’t generally do that, at least not to him, not that he could remember. He looked up again, searching the noirette’s gunmetal eyes, there was no coldness, no hardness found there, it was weird to have that absence, the blond studied him trying to figure out what was happening, the noirette wasn’t guarding himself from the others searching eyes and what the blond saw there made his heart skip a beat and his breath catch – affection, in a pure form, hinting at something more, something deeper, dangerous possibilities.

The look was too raw and real for the blond to hold the eye contact, opting instead to tuck his head back against the noirette’s shoulder, shielding himself as best he could from the lingering glance. He trembled next the noirette as his thoughts swirled uncontrollably in his brain.

“C’mere,” was the whisper in the silence, the noirette holding the blond more tightly against him, pulling up the blankets to wrap themselves within.

A small startled sound escaped from the blond at the others actions, he was wound tight and fighting himself for control, dangerous thoughts spinning wildly in his head, the internal monolog a string of curses. ‘ _Fucking shit, what is this, why is this, this is not Craig, this can’t be Craig, this is a sick joke, I bet Fatass put him up to it, just waiting until he can kick me to the curb more thoroughly than the rest of them, why am I here, I need out, I can’t do this, this is killing me._ ’

“Why?”

The question was so small, seemingly imperceptible that the noirette thought he didn’t hear it at all, but as the blond shook next to him he knew he wasn’t hearing things.

“Why what,” the noirette asked carefully.

“Why are you doing this,” the blond spoke meekly

The noirette’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach at the words. He knew the blond wasn’t himself lately, or at least the self he presented to the world, but he realized there was something broken deep down inside the boy, something no one had bothered to notice. He heart ached and he fought to keep his tone and emotions in check so as not to upset the blond any more.

“Because I can, because I want to, and most importantly because you need it,” he breathed

It was a long time before either of them spoke again, but the blond eventually stopped trembling and the noirette wasn’t going to mention the warm tears that he knew dotted his shirt where the blond lay his head.

“Thank you,” the blond choked out later, tears welling up in his eyes again as he quietly cried against the noirette holding him.

The noirette just responding by kissing his head softly and lightly caressing the small of his back, the most important thing for him was to just be there for the blond. He could tell that the boy hadn’t had that in a long time.

 

***


	6. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, Craig's house, Craig and Kenny's POV

{Together}

 

Hours passed as they held each other in comfortable silence, Craig couldn’t bear to leave the blond who so desperately needed attention. It wasn’t until his stomach growled that he had to make a choice, stay or eat, you might as well of asked him to solve a global economic crisis.

“Kenny,” he started delicately, “are you hungry?”

“Hmm, yeah, um, I could eat” was the muffled reply.

“Okay, come with me then?” he questioned to the blond.

“’Kay” he breathed

The blond sat up as the noirette moved under him, he unwrapped his leg from the other and propped himself up on his elbow, wincing at the painful reminder of his battered ribcage. He watched the noirette sit up fully and swing his legs over the side to stand. He stood at the edge of the bed and turned slowly, extending his hand out the blond. The blond flicked his eyes from the noirette’s to his hand before taking it and allowing himself to be helped out of bed. The noirette pulled him close as he stood, holding him steady as he got his feet firmly under him, he ran his other arm lightly against Kenny’s cooling skin. He didn’t move from his spot but easily stretched out his body to take the navy blue hoodie from the back of the desk chair and offer it to the blond. The blond took his offering and tugged his arms into the sleeves; the noirette facing him took his hands and smoothed down the hoodie around the smaller boy, a slight grin as he realized how big the garment was on him, pulling the sides together around the blond but not zipping them closed.

“There, now you won’t freeze,” humor colored the noirette’s tone.

He took the blond’s hand before he could formulate a reply and led him downstairs to the kitchen. He guided him to a small breakfast table, gesturing for him to take as seat, and went off to rummage in the fridge for leftovers for the two of them. He returned triumphantly and popped two Tupperware containers into the microwave to reheat, going back to the fridge to pull out two pops. The noirette fussed along in the kitchen, the blond’s gazing never leaving him as he did so, setting pops on the table before going to a cupboard to get two plates, and the drawer for two sets of silverware, arranging them on the table before the blond and a spot reserved for himself. Napkins were brought over next and the microwave dinged. The noirette retrieved the food from within and brought the steaming dishes over to present to the blond. He watched as the blond eyed the food hungrily, he looked up for some sort of permission, and when the noirette nodded the blond took his queue and scooped out spoonfuls of the food from the containers on to the plate in front of him. The noirette waited until the blond was done before taking his own portions, noticing the blond eating happily, a small smile playing across his lips. Once they were done eating the noirette gathered up the plates and containers and deposited them in the sink, rinsing them off slightly and returned to the blond, offering his hand to him.

“What now,” the unsure words slipping from the blond as he took the offered hand, again allowing himself to be pulled up from his seat.

“Now, well now we smoke, we’ll work on the rest after,” the noirette tried to keep his tone casual but he saw the worry in the blond’s eyes for the ‘ _after_ ’ implications.

He led the blond back upstairs to his room, taking the discarded gray flannel pants from the floor and handing them to the blond, the blond took the hint and put them back on as the noirette grabbed a new hoodie from his closet and put it on. Returning to the blond his fingers caught the edge of the navy hoodie and with a hint of a smile he proceeded the zip the hoodie closed for the blond, he felt in the pocket of the navy hoodie for the pack of cigarettes he knew to be there, pulling them out slowly and dropping them into the pocket of his red hoodie instead. He led the blond to the front door this time and they slipped on their boots before heading outside. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, reflecting off of the crisp white snow, dazzling them both with the brilliance of it. Craig lit a cigarette and passed it on to the dazed blond and then lit one for himself. They both inhaled deeply, letting the smoke pool in their lungs, the sweet kiss of nicotine washing over them.

They stood on the porch smoking in silence, eyes taking in the world around them. Craig didn’t want to break the quiet between them, not just yet, instead focusing on inhales and exhales of his cigarette and watching the blond from the corner of his eye. He took in how Kenny relaxed into his smoking, letting out his exhales slowly, the smoke drifting around him, his eyes slightly closed. The inhales of the blond equally as long and slow, taking the smoke deep into his lungs and holding it there, all the better to embrace the nicotine. They went on until the cigarettes were burnt low, and each tossed theirs aside into the pristine snow.

The noirette was about to light another until her saw the blond shaking slightly from the cold, the sleep pants and hoodie he was dressed in doing little to keep the frigid air from affecting him. He opened the front door instead and grabbed the blond’s hand to pull him back into the house’s warmth. They kicked off their boots at the door and Craig led Kenny back to his room. He had to know what was wrong, what had happened to the formerly happy-go-lucky blond that was now so broken before him.

Once they reached the bedroom, the noirette shut the door and locked it behind him, more so out of habit than anything else. The blond was shivering slightly and holding himself standing near the bed. Craig took the few small steps to place himself in front of the blond and pulled him in to a hug, rubbing his hands along the others body in an attempt to warm him.

It was the blond’s turn to stiffen at the embrace. His emotions high and raw at the events of the last few hours, his normal tight control gone because of the noirette before him and he hated his obvious weakness being so easily portrayed to the other. Hated how the other seemed to know things, observe the things about him that he held so near, he still couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening between the two of them. Once upon a time Kenny would have wished intimacy from the noirette, he had liked him from a distance for so long but the other was always unobtainable to him. Hell, the blond was too nervous to even flirt or try to bed him like he had so many others in his past, and it rather infuriated him that the noirette was paying attention now when the blond was so not himself, not in his right mind. “ _Maybe the fuck just pities me_ ’ he thought coldly to himself, anger starting to swell within him and looking for an opportunity to lash out.

The blond detached himself rather roughly from the embrace, anger fully settling within, he was intent on figuring this out, no matter how the noirette had tried to soothe him. He strode away as far as he could from the noirette standing near the bed, crossed his arms and set a hateful gaze upon the other. Fuck that, he didn’t need anyone’s pity; he was fucking fine on his own.

“What is all this fuckin’ bullshit Tucker?” he spat out at the noirette, the anger inside tingeing his words.

The noirette stared at him blankly, the wheels spinning in his brain as he tried to work through the change in the others demeanor.

“Fuck Tucker, did I stutter? Answer me.” The blond demanded.

As much as he tried to fight it the blond’s anger was contagious and caused his own to rise, “shit I was just trying to help” he responded in kind, not as menacingly as the blond, but the tone was plenty rough.

“I don’t need your damn help, been fine on my own,” Kenny remarked snidely.

“You showed up here all on your own last night, you asshole,” the noirette shot back

“Yeah, big fuckin’ mistake that was,” the blond replied coldly

Craig dropped his eyes at that, rotating his neck forcibly until it cracked, his hand automatically trying to rub out the stiffness in the muscles. He sighed, trying to release some of the anger in himself.

“Fuck it I’m out, where’s my shit Tucker,” Kenny spoke lowly through his gritted teeth.

“It’s still in the laundry room,” the noirette replied, struggling for nonchalant but failing.

The blond made a move to escape the bedroom but Craig grabbed his arm before he could, holding him firmly in place.

“Stop Kenny,” he spoke carefully, the anger inside dissipating as he remembered the blond from his bed just a few hours before, “don’t leave, I don’t want to fight with you, I’m just trying to help,” he finished softly.

“Who said I needed your fuckin’ help Tucker,” the venomous tone in the blond was hard to ignore and the noirette’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“Kenny,” he tried again, forcing his tone to be gentle against the hostility of the other, “just stop this bullshit pretense, you and I both know you came here for a reason, and I don’t know what is going on in your head right now that you decided to flip the script like you have and why you are so suddenly angry but I’m not letting you walk out of this room until you actually talk to me. Something is wrong, and fuck you for being pissed at me for noticing, but I did. And god dammit I care and want to know what it is. So just sit down and talk to me. Please.” The last words were spoken almost pleadingly, begging for the other to just calm down.

The blond stood there, stunned to silence. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to formulate words but they never came, after the third attempt to speak and coming up unsuccessful again, he sighed loudly, exasperated by the noirette. He shook himself from the others grip and sat back on the bed, back straight against the wall and started back at the noirette.

He took that as his cue and sat down next to the blond on the bed, keeping a small distance between one another, the mood too drastically different from the embraces hours before. He didn’t want to risk pissing the blond off any more than he apparently already had.

After a long silence, the blond fuming next to him Craig decided to break the quiet between them.

“Why don’t they talk to you anymore?” he asked slowly, choosing each word carefully and trying to gauge the reaction of the blond next to him.

The shock and surprise that danced through Kenny’s blue eyes were not lost on the noirette, but it wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

He waited so long for a response he wasn’t sure he was going to actually get one.

“Uh, um, I’m not entirely sure,” the blond shrugged, defeat colored his tone.

“What do you mean,” Craig looked to Kenny to elaborate

The blond hesitated next to him, the anger gone as quickly as it had come before, replaced with sadness and confusion.

“Well, I don’t know, we just haven’t spoken in so long, I’m not really sure what happened. Not really sure when I stopped existing.” He finished slightly bitterly.

“You never stopped existing,” the noirette tried to assure him, but the pointed look from the blond let him know that he failed.

“Really Tucker, because it’s not like you talked to me before we were picked as partners for the Art project,” the coldness returned to the blond’s voice as he spoke, “I really doubt you paid much attention to me before then either.”

Craig couldn’t deny the truth to the words, guilt coursed through his veins, and he mentally cursed at himself for being such an asshole.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, but these are you’re best friends, right? So why all the change?” the noirette’s sincere words were not really what the blond was expecting.

“Like I said, I don’t know,” the blond replied obscurely.

‘ _Maybe it was me that changed_ ’ the thought tugged at the back of the blond’s mind.

The noirette studied the blond, sensing an internal dialog that he was not privy to, instead of responding he chose to wait; maybe the blond would reveal himself with patience.

After a while the blond shrugged, seeming to make up his mind about something and spoke with forced apathy, “maybe it was my fault all along.”

The noirette took that in, but instead of adding he decided to change tactics slightly.

“Do you want to talk to them again?” he asked cool-toned.

The blond feigned annoyance for a moment before actually considering what Craig had said, he mulled it over in his mind before replying.

“Yeah, I would,” the reply was small but the noirette heard it nonetheless.

“Okay,” he mused aloud, “so we’ll talk to them together, tomorrow.” The lightness to the statement was contrived but the blond nodded his assent regardless.

“Tomorrow,” the blond agreed fully, letting out a shaky breath.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo... this is all I have written so far. I'll update it as I am able to since I don't feel it's entirely finished.


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